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AMUSING POETRY.

Christmas.

A SONG FOR THE YOUNG AND THE WISE.

CHRISTMAS Comes! He comes, he comes,
Usher'd with a rain of plums;

Hollies in the windows greet him;
Schools come driving post to meet him,
Gifts precede him, bills proclaim him,
Every mouth delights to name him;
Wet, and cold, and wind, and dark
Make him but the warmer mark;
And yet he comes not one embodied,
Universal's the blithe godhead,
And in every festal house
Presence hath ubiquitous.

Curtains, those snug room-enfolders,
Hang upon his million shoulders;
And he has a million eyes

Of fire, and eats a million pies,

And is very merry and wise;

Very wise and very merry,

And loves a kiss beneath the berry.

Then full many a shape hath he,
All in said ubiquity:

B

Now is he a green array,

And now an "eve" and now a "day;"
Now he's town gone out of town,
And now a feast in civic gown,
And now the pantomime and clown
With a crack upon the crown
And all sorts of tumbles down;
And then he's music in the night,
And the money gotten by't;

He's a man that can't write verses,
Bringing some to ope your purses ;
He's a turkey, he's a goose,
He's oranges unfit for use,
He's a kiss that loves to grow
Underneath the mistletoe,

And he's forfeits, cards, and wassails,
And a king and queen with vassals,
All the "quizzes" of the time
Drawn and quarter'd with a rhyme;
And then for their revival's sake,
Lo! he's an enormous cake,

With a sugar on the top

Seen before in many a shop,

Where the boys could gaze for ever,
They think the cake so very clever.
He's a dinner where you see
Every body's family;

Beef and pudding, and mince-pies,

And little boys with laughing eyes,

Whom their seniors ask arch questions,

Feigning fears of indigestions,

(As if they, forsooth, the old ones

Hadn't privately tenfold ones!)

He's a dinner, and a fire,

Heap'd beyond your heart's desire,
Heap'd with logs, and baked with coals,
Till it roasts your very souls,

And your cheek the fire outstares,
And you all push back your chairs,
And the mirth becomes too great,
And you all sit up too late,
Nodding all with too much head,
And so go off to too much bed.

LEIGH HUNT.

The Two Bracelets.

A FARMER-GENERAL, one Monsieur B

Who dwelt in France, when Louis held the throne,
Lived like a prince, from every trouble free,
Except a wife,-(the exception's large I own,)-
For she was fat as any marchioness,

And given to extravagance in dress.

One day she bought a pair of bracelets, such
As few but royal damsels would bespeak.
They cost-I cannot recollect how much-
But they were quite magnificent, unique ;
And having clasp'd them on, away she flies
Off to the opera to show her prize.

It happen'd that the queen was there that night,
Just opposite the box that madam took,
And on the bracelets with intense delight
Frequently look'd, or else appear'd to look ;
For she took special care to have them seen,
As if on purpose to outvie the queen.

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